


Pasta Simmers on the Stove in July

by Marleycat



Series: All Summer Long [5]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Blow Jobs, David Rose Can Cook, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25780441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marleycat/pseuds/Marleycat
Summary: On a chilly summer day off, David gets inspired to try out one of their wedding presents.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: All Summer Long [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798660
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78





	Pasta Simmers on the Stove in July

**Author's Note:**

> Title slightly modified from the Prince song "June"

Uncharacteristic for Schitt’s Creek, a cold front blew through in late-July. David woke up shivering, the open windows letting a nippy breeze in after a night of drizzly rain. He could hear Patrick in the shower as he tried to cocoon himself further into the bedcovers. When looking at the weather forecast and with no vendor pickups or drop-offs scheduled, Patrick had suggested on Monday that David take this day off. Not only had David hosted two of their “summer cocktails and crafts” evenings during the previous week, but he ran the store on their busiest Friday by himself after Patrick’s allergies gave him a severe sinus headache and not wanting to call Asha in on their day off. David jumped at the chance, hoping to sleep in until noon perhaps, but his chilliness had other ideas.

Spotting Patrick’s oversized baseball hoodie on the bench at the end of the bed, David heaved his body forward so that he could grab it and fall back. Patrick walked out of the bathroom to see his husband thrashing about like the inflatable dancing tube people they put in front of used car dealerships. Arms, legs, sleeves, and floppy hair flailed as David struggled to get the hoodie on, refusing to sit up.

As he approached the side of the bed, Patrick peeled back the comforter with a teasing “Can I be of any help?” David just huffed while Patrick smiled and reached under David’s arms to pull the hoodie down his flanks until David’s face popped through the neck. Patrick leaned over to give him a kiss as he left. “I love you. I’m closing some of the windows before I go. Have a relaxing day.” David pulled Patrick in for one last kiss and “I love you” before Patrick tossed the comforter back over David’s face with a chuckle and left, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

David listened to the muted sounds of Patrick getting his breakfast and tea before hearing his car drive away. While he was warmer, it seemed like his body was not going to let David go back to sleep. Scrolling on his phone with his eyes half closed, David opened up Instagram. While he personally stayed off social media, they did maintain accounts for the store. They only followed a “curated list of lifestyle influencers and brands”, and David occasionally checked to see what was new besides posting for the store. After skipping through some more boring gardening and exotic travel accounts, there was a series of stories from one food blogger that showed the process of making homemade pasta. 

David was an unabashed lover of carbs and all the versions they came in, but he had a special affinity for pasta. From the hearty baked ziti and meatballs blanketed with mozzarella cheese the personal chef they had in his teenage years used to make just for him, to the simple cacio e pepe he had at Rome’s most exclusive restaurants, David would eat pasta every day if possible. While many people knew he loved pizza, and he did, it was more of an ease and convenience factor with availability living in the motel, though he was often known for his presence at the Cafe’s all-you-can eat spaghetti nights. When they visited Marcy and Clint in the spring, they had gotten their fill of Patrick’s, and now David’s, favorite lasagna and on special occasions, they would make reservations at Trattoria Olmo in Elmdale to indulge. 

Currently, pasta was more of a once-a-week entree on their dinner rotation. Vegetables, ground turkey, and additional dried spices were added to a “gourmet” jarred sauce after cooking up some boxed dry penne with a salad on the side so that at least it was a bit more balanced of a meal. Patrick liked pasta just fine, but he loved David even more, so if there was an extra night of it in their schedule or if they whipped up a “fancier” recipe like chicken parmesan or those specialty ravioli as a treat, he was not going to complain. 

Watching intently as the Instagram story rolled along, David suddenly remembered something. He hopped out of bed and went downstairs. Turning on the coffee pot to start brewing, he took aim at the hall closet. Pulling out the plastic tote labeled “Misc. Kitchen”, he started to dig through. Some “Mr & Mr.” matching coffee mugs, a dish towel that said [“Bitch, I am the secret ingredient”](https://www.blueq.com/shop/item/330-productId.125848442.html), multiple rolling pins, and then there it was, the box of pasta roller attachments for their stand mixer. 

The stand mixer, given as a group gift from the Cafe Tropical baseball team, had already been put into good use for their first foray into Christmas cookies and whipped cream for the coconut cake Patrick had made for Easter. After Ronnie heard about the gift through the baseball grapevine, she sent along the pasta attachment set, a nice bottle of wine, and a note reminding Patrick to “treat his husband right”. David’s love of pasta did not go unnoticed.

Forgotten about until now with the hubbub of being newlyweds, moving, all the changes with the store, and life in general, David felt slightly confident that he could make his husband a nice dinner on his own with this contraption. At the very least, Patrick would appreciate the effort and there would still be time to boil some grocery store spaghetti if needed. David had always thought that they would have needed some special ingredients to make the pasta, but the Instagram story informed David that he could get it done with the all purpose flour they had. Maybe if this attempt went well, he could experiment with some of the other more creative versions later. 

David grabbed a cup of coffee and toasted a bagel while he borrowed Patrick’s tablet to get to the blog link. He diligently read each step and watched the accompanying video. While in his mind, he could see the finished dish, he decided that he was going to sketch out each step into his notebook so he didn’t forget anything. Grabbing it out of his bag, he transcribed the instructions and drew small diagrams with indications of video time markers or notes that he could go back to on the blog entry.

He wanted to let everything marinate in his brain for a bit, so after retrieving each of the ingredients and moving the stand mixer to the island counter, he took himself upstairs for a long, warm shower along with his coffee. David took extra time for his skincare before returning to put on a fresh pair of lounge pants and t-shirt, but sticking with Patrick’s hoodie. Heading back downstairs, he made himself another cup of coffee, threw in a load of laundry, and got ready to make his dough. 

David precisely measured out the flour, cracked the eggs into a ramekin, and triple checked that he had the right spoons for the salt and water. He set up the mixer and added all the ingredients. With only a moment of thinking that he broke the whole thing, he switched out the paddle for the dough hook and let the mixer do it’s work. Checking his notes for consistency and time, he stopped the mixer, separated and turned the dough out onto some plastic wrap and stuck it in the fridge to rest. David grazed on some snacks to hold him over as it was past lunch time now.

He went to change over the laundry, hand washed a couple sweaters, and decided to tackle the pasta-cutting stage so he had time to try again if he fucked it all up. Carefully removing the parts from the box, David attached the pasta roller to the hub on the mixer after reading the brief instruction manual that echoed a lot of what he saw on the blog. Before he knew it, he was using his arm to “catch” the dough as it flattened like in the video. Continuing on, he finished with the rest of the dough in a meditative state as he got the hang of it, only once having it nearly break as he tried to catch it, one end a little too flat, but overall it seemed passable. Switching to the cutter, he ran the flattened dough through and made neat little nests of fettuccine on a cookie sheet. David took a satisfied breath and felt pretty proud of his accomplishment. 

After sticking the whole tray into the fridge, David heard his phone vibrate on the other side of the counter. 

Patrick: Want me to pick up dinner? Feels like soup and sandwich weather.

David: No, but thank you. I’ve got dinner handled.

Patrick: Oh ok then....see you after 5. Love you.

David: Love you, too.

David smiled as he cleaned up the attachments, bowl, and other tools, making sure everything was put away and the kitchen was spotless. Patrick probably thought David had pulled a frozen casserole from Marcy or ordered a pizza for dinner, so he was excited to see how his creation turned out. He went to finish the laundry until something struck him...what was he going to put on top of the pasta? He had been so concentrated on the actual making of it that he totally forgot that Patrick probably didn’t want to eat plain noodles, and that even their fancy jarred sauce would not be a sufficient accompaniment. 

Going back to the tablet, David remembered that the Roses’ chef of long ago had often mentioned the name of a famous Italian food writer who he had studied under. The name however was stuck 20 years back in David’s brain, _Maria? Marta? Michele?_ **Marcella!** David eventually arrived on [Marcella Hazan’s Butter Tomato sauce](https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1015178-marcella-hazans-tomato-sauce), and it was deemed doable enough for him. Luckily, they had a good sized pantry closet tucked next to the kitchen which they had kept well stocked since they moved in, so David easily found a can of the San Marzano tomatoes the recipe called for. 

After pulling the small dutch oven out of the lower cabinet, David cut an onion in half, opened the can of tomatoes, and got the butter and salt out. Checking the clock, he figured he would let the sauce cook and then keep warm on the stove until Patrick was home. When everything was in, David crossed his fingers and let it go. He got another pot filled with water and ready to boil for the fettuccine.

With some of his other dusting and mopping finished, David set up the placemats and dinnerware on the island facing the stove, grabbed a bottle of Chianti his parents had sent as a part of his birthday gift earlier in the month, placed some candles along the far edge of the island, and even went to the backyard to cut a bunch of the brilliant purple and orange wildflowers that were growing on the perimeter of the fence, arranging them in a simple vase. David checked on the sauce throughout, the smell permeating the downstairs area. Mashing up some of the remaining tomatoes and adding a little salt after tasting, he turned the sauce down to low and double checked that he had everything else done. 

David ran upstairs and changed into a simple black tone on tone sweater with coordinating comfortable knit pants. With a spritz of both facial mist and cologne and a touch up for his hair, he saw that Patrick would be home in any minute. After he made it back to the kitchen, David turned on the burner under the pot of water to bring to a boil and raised the heat on the sauce, giving it a stir. Unable to sit still, he uncorked the wine and lit the candles. As he nervously scrubbed at some invisible dirt on the already-clean countertops, he could hear a car door shut, alerting him to Patrick’s arrival. Trying to look as casual as possible, he leaned against the island counter, scrolling through his phone.

Patrick, with his messenger bag over his shoulder, came in through the mudroom entrance, his eyes expanding when he took in the tablescape on the island and face stretching into a delighted grin when the smell of the simmering sauce hit his nose. 

“Hi” David shyly looked up from his phone with a small, contained smile.

Pulling his bag off his shoulder and placing it next to the couch, Patrick’s head was on a swivel taking in the kitchen scene before his focus turned directly to his husband. David sat his phone on the island as Patrick’s arms navigated to his waist and he pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw.

“Hello,” Patrick kissed into David’s skin, his lips now moving back for a sweet, closed mouth peck. “It looks like you have been busy. It smells amazing in here. You smell amazing too.” Patrick leaned down to kiss the junction of David’s neck and shoulder, inhaling him in.

“I hope you are hungry.” David said as they pulled apart, David turning his attention to the sauce. He lifted the cover, gave it a stir, and scooped up a bit on the spoon before bringing it up to Patrick’s mouth. Patrick kept his eyes on David’s as he gently slurped at the taste given to him. 

“Mmm, wow,” Patrick closed his eyes as he savored the sauce then lightly kissed David again. “This is perfect. Do you want me to grab a box of pasta? What shape do you want to cook?” Patrick started to pull away and head towards the pantry.

David held firm to Patrick’s waist with one hand while he put the spoon on the spoon rest with the other. “No, just sit down and pour us some wine, ok? Pick a good playlist for the speakers too.” He placed another small kiss on his husband’s lips and gently let him go.

Patrick stopped to wash his hands quickly at the sink before sitting himself down on the barstool and pulling up a sultry jazz mix. David waited until Patrick filled their glasses to pull the tray of pasta out of the fridge.

Patrick’s eyes darted between the tray and David’s face. “What is that…” he whispered with a wondering tone.

“I saw a food blog about making pasta going through the store’s Instagram, so I pulled out that attachment set for the mixer and made some today. No guarantees as to how good it is, I just used regular flour.” David trailed off as he turned his back to Patrick to drop four of the nests into the boiling water and put the rest back in the fridge for now. As David reached down to the cabinet under the counter to pull out a colander, he felt Patrick's arms wrap around his back as he stood back up. David turned his head to the side “What are you doing out of your seat?” 

Patrick smiled against David’s neck “I just love you for taking your bonus day off and making homemade pasta and sauce. How did I get so lucky?” Patrick ran his hands along David’s sides and kissed around the collar of his sweater. David wrapped his right arm across his body, placing his hand overtop of Patrick’s, their rings clicking against each other. “I mean, you are well aware of how much I like pasta. This actually seems sort of selfish. Now go sit back down, it is almost ready.”

Patrick gave one last squeeze to David’s side before he retreated to his seat, sipping his wine as he admired his husband fussing over the boiling water. Deeming the pasta perfectly al dente per his remembered notes, David took the pot and colander to the sink to drain, his face recoiling from the billowing steam which made Patrick chuckle. Grabbing the bowls he had to the side, he filled each one with a generous serving of the fettuccine noodles, ladeled on some sauce, and sprinkled some shredded parmesan. Turning everything else off, he carried the bowls around the island, placing one in front of Patrick before he sat down with his.

Patrick held up his wine glass and David followed suit. “Cheers, and thank you.” Patrick leaned over and kissed David’s cheek as their glasses touched. Patrick only half smiled when he saw what a big gulp David took. Patrick sipped just a bit before he excitedly picked up his fork and twirled it around the pasta, perfectly coated with the sauce. David watched nervously out of his peripheral vision, fussing with his fork and absentmindedly moving his food around the bowl.

Patrick stuck the small forkful in his mouth and moaned to the point that David turned his head and raised his eyebrows.

“ _Ohmygodbabe, sooogoood_ ” came out in a mumbled mess from Patrick’s sauce-coated lips.

“Yeah, ok. Be careful. Don’t need to be doing the Heimlich tonight.” David quietly got himself a bite of the pasta and tasted it apprehensively. 

“Seriously, the pasta is incredible and the sauce, wow. We need to freeze this to have all the time!”

David let the flavor settle as the corner of his mouth tried to hold in a smile. Patrick was right, it was really good. The pasta was simple, but hearty with the perfect chew. Maybe looking for some of that Semolina or 00 flour would be next. The sauce was good on its own, but with the noodles and parmesan, the tang of the tomatoes and creaminess of the butter just melded together perfectly.

“I’m glad you like it.” David took a sip of his wine and happily scooped up more to eat, feeling more confident in accepting his husband’s compliments.

Patrick continued to rave about the meal, and told David all about his day as his left hand slid up and down David’s right thigh. He poured them both another glass of wine with a kiss on David’s neck reminding him they didn’t have to be at the store until 1pm tomorrow with Asha opening. 

As they both finished the pasta and Chianti, David rested his hand on top of Patrick’s as he sipped the last of his wine. Full and happy, he scooted his barstool closer to Patrick’s and leaned against his shoulder, kissing behind his ear first.

“What is that for?” Patrick wrapped his arm around David’s shoulder as he nuzzled against him.

“Thank you for my extra day off and liking my pasta adventures.”

“David, you did so much last week for the store and then covering for me. I wish I could give you more days off. And as long as you love to try new stuff, I will gladly eat any creations. Maybe we can try the next pasta adventure together.”

David’s right hand started trailing up Patrick’s thigh, the warmth of the wine and his husband’s affection for his efforts coursing through him. As he inched higher each time, he could feel the heat from Patrick’s neck increase as he tried to finish his wine.

“We could take this somewhere else.” Patrick rubbed his hand down David’s left arm as he pulled him in closer.

“Hmmm, well I need to put everything away first because I will never make it back down here, and we have all this ambience.” David tilted his head to kiss Patrick fully on the mouth, his eyes shining with the candles that flickered around the kitchen.

As they sunk into each other's mouths, heat and the wine lingering between them, David’s hand gracefully continued up until he was palming Patrick’s quickly hardening cock through his tight jeans.

Breaking their kiss, Patrick gulped in some air and harshly whispered “I should be doing that to you after this incredible meal and everything you did last week.”

“Mmmm, this is just the dessert course,” David said as he kissed down Patrick’s jaw, trying not to lean too much to the side of his stool as he popped the button of Patrick’s jeans. “Just a second and we can make this a little more comfortable.”

David regretfully had to take his hands and mouth off of Patrick so he could push back. Standing up, David first moved his barstool to the side and then took grip of the seat of Patrick’s and quickly turned it so Patrick was facing towards him. Patrick’s eyes were hungry and his legs were splayed open, looking for some relief after David’s advances.

“Be right back” David walked behind Patrick to bring back one of the armless dining chairs and set it facing Patrick’s legs where his own barstool once was. Before he sat down, he leaned in to take in Patrick’s lips, pressing firmly and sliding his tongue in while his hands reached down to unzip Patrick’s jeans. Patrick wrapped his arms around David’s neck and pushed them closer together while David roughly wiggled Patrick out of his jeans and boxer briefs until they were just below the seat of his barstool.

Pulling apart their lips with a gasp, David hurriedly peeled Patrick’s jeans and underwear off his legs, throwing the inside-out pants towards the staircase to deal with later. He stood back up quickly and growled as he captured Patrick’s perfect face with his hands, cupping his jaw to take one last kiss. David could feel his own erection throbbing, but his only focus was his husband at the moment.

David's hands traveled down Patrick’s sides until they reached his hips. As he slowed down their frantic kiss, he sat down on the dining chair and then pivoted Patrick, sliding his ass forward so that his beautiful dripping cock was now eye and mouth level. David gripped Patrick on each side tightly to hold him in place, leaning in to trace the underside of Patrick’s dick with a pointed tongue. 

Patrick’s hands magnetically weaved through the front of David’s hair, letting the silky strands run between his fingers. David licked up to the head, taking the scenic route to visit every spot that made his husband’s breath catch. With one hand wrapped around Patrick’s dick, David let his closed pout rub over Patrick’s slit before he opened his mouth to sink down on it. David could feel Patrick’s moan rumble through his body as he dragged his plush lips up and down at a glacial pace. On each downward pass, David took more and more of Patrick’s cock in, letting his tongue circle around as the bright taste of his precome mixed with the remnants of the wine. Patrick’s hands pulled in contrast to David’s movement, making him work for every inch of cock in his mouth.

David’s pulsing dick was leaking through his thin boxers by this point. Feeling confident that Patrick would be able to stay in place, David took the hand that was still on Patrick’s hip and used it to shimmy his loose pants off until they were pooled at his ankles. He groped himself overtop of his cotton boxers, letting his wet spot of precome add to the sensation. All along, David intensified the suction around Patrick, bumping his mouth against the hand holding him firmly at his base as his speed accelerated slightly.

Patrick saw the motion below David’s body in a moment when he was able to keep his eyes open. “Oh fuck babe. You are so fucking hot. Touch yourself for me.” he gritted out. 

David had now stuffed his hand into his boxers, moaning around Patrick’s cock. Patrick threw his head back as the vibration reverberated through his groin. As David haphazardly jacked himself off, the saliva from his mouth pooled over his hand surrounding the root of Patrick cock. He slid it upward and connected it with his mouth to form a tight but sloppy seal around Patrick sucking with everything he had. 

“Fuck fuck fuck yes David. God, I fucking love you and your perfect mouth.” Patrick yelled towards the ceiling, his hands seeking out David’s shoulders as a steadier location to hold on to. David could feel the heat pooling in his balls as Patrick’s strong thighs encased the sides of his arms with his approaching orgasm.

“David, I’m going to come. Come with me, fuck” Patrick curled his upperbody forward so he wouldn’t tip back in the barstool as he shot deep into David’s mouth. As the waves of his climax rolled through him, Patrick could feel David panting on his cock as he came all over his hand and boxers. Patrick’s hands ran up from David’s shoulders to his neck and nestled at the base of his skull, rubbing the short hairs up and down.

David pulled his messy hand out of his boxers and sat up and back in the dining chair, head tilted and eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath after making them both come. Patrick smiled and reached down to grab David’s wrist. David’s eyes barely opened, watching as Patrick traced around David’s fingers, cleaning and savoring his taste. “I needed the rest of my dessert, though you did all the work.”

“Hmmm” was all David could muster out by that point. After Patrick released David’s hand, he stood up and went to his crumpled ball of jeans and underwear to retrieve the boxers and slid them back on. Pulling his barstool back, he crouched down in front of David.

“I’m going to put the sauce in the fridge and then we can go clean up and rest a little, okay?” Patrick kissed David’s knee as his head was still lolling to the side, his breath finally evening out. Patrick stood up and quickly blew out the candles and tidied what he could up. Returning to David, Patrick reached his hand out and helped him to stand before leaning down to pull his pants back up temporarily.

Silently, they climbed the stairs, Patrick with his discarded jeans thrown over his shoulder. As soon as they walked into the bedroom, David pushed his sweater over his head, his pants and boxers off, and put Patrick’s hoodie back on. Patrick emerged from the bathroom with a smile seeing David stand there in his clothes. He used a lukewarm washcloth to lovingly wipe David clean and had a fresh pair of boxers for him to step into. Patrick unbuttoned his Oxford, leaving his white undershirt on. He led David back over to the bed for a little evening cat nap, their bellies and hearts both full and satiated. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always for any comments and kudos. I greatly appreciate them and try to always reply. Hope you are staying safe and well. 
> 
> Feel free to say hi on tumblr: [simplymarleycat](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/simplymarleycat)


End file.
